An African Heart

The edge of the tent flapped intermittently as the breeze rushed up from the river bank. I

turned over and felt the hardness of the frame beneath me, my left arm falling over the

edge of the camping stretcher. I heard the distinctive cape turtle dove in the distance

cooing. I drifted off, conjuring up distant memories of childhood in the dusty suburbs of

Africa. I could see myself barefoot among the shade of the mulberry trees, grasping the

sweetness above. Dancing from branch to branch my toes squelched the purple carpet

of fallen fruit. Someone was calling me, I fought this voice, savoring this reverie. The

voice became louder, I was aware of a great heaviness, a tugging....

‘Olivia, Olivia, Oliiiivviia, we have to get up!’, shouted Regina.

‘Huh? Wait, wait! ’ I mumbled.

‘Olivia its 4am, its time,’ she replied.

‘I just got to sleep, all that buzzing and rustling,’ Regina glanced at me and hurriedly left

thetent. I rolled over shrugging my shoulders, my eyes felt like they were glued shut.

Finally, I sat up,my eyelids heavy, mental fogginess surrounded me like a misty winter

morning back in London. I looked around and remembered: I was in a tent in the middle

of nowhere surrounded by the African bush, over-looking the mighty Zambezi river. The

outside sounds greeted me; crickets sang unenchanted by the family domestic breaking

out among the baboons nearby. Their screaming and barking rants echoed though the

velvet darkness. Hippopotamus’ splashed grumpily in the water, grunting at this rude

awakening. I took a deep breath and looked out into the African bush, it was

pitch black. I rushed to the open air bathroom. It was surrounded by a green tarpaulin.

We had taken turns during the night checking for hyena’s, our torches flitting in all

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directions like guards of the apocalypse. Among African beasts they were unpredictable

opportunists; possessing the most powerful jaws in Africa yet were cowardly characters.

The problem was in a group they were dangerous, their eery, laughing bark reminiscent

of an evil figure lurking in the shadows waiting to sneak up on you when you least

expected it. The shower was a bush-veld invention made from a bottomless bucket with

a shower head affixed to replace the void. As I lathered my body, I gratefully took the

luke warm water and poured it into the bush-veld invention - the water came down in

steady crystal streams. Closing my eyes I relished cleansing the accumulated nano

particles of dust off my skin. As I opened my eyes sparkling diamonds twinkled above in

the African sky. My heart warmed, I was in familiar territory, I was home. I felt the

coolness of the air on my wet skin as the bush-veld invention coughed the last of its

crystal collection. That was the thing with the bush, it was hot during the day and cold at

night. Blackness enveloped it like a blanket of darkness sucking any warmth showered

by the day gods. The contrast was uncanny.

‘Ya, remember” ordered Pieter as he slung his rifle over his right shoulder “listen to my

instructions and keep your eyes peeled, this is the African bush and there are some

dangerous animals out there. Keep silent and don’t fall behind.” Pieter Mbambala was

our bulky, Afrikaans safari guide. As I watched his movements, I got the impression he

was a typical macho man, confident on the outside but dreadfully insecure. His gruff

voice, echoed back to me as I patted my beloved digital camera, what would I do

without you I pondered. Regina and I had been on many expeditions for International

Geoconservation Magazine over the years, we knew each other well. She was a travel

writer and I a photographer, this was her first time in Africa. I was a veteran.

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Following the elephant path, they were surrounded by golden fields of tall grass. In the

distance, a herd of beige impala with their heart shaped horns grazed lazily. The alpha

male positioning his wet snout up in the air, searching for any whiffs of predators. Olivia

was behind, intrigued by the natural world she had left behind all those years ago. A

world of infinite beauty, her lens poised as she pushed hard on the shutter. Those

familiar smells flashing nostalgic childhood memories of her time learning the ways of

the bush. She had been the best at tracking wildlife and bush survival skills. Africa was

under her skin, it ran through her blood. Regina took a deep breath in, her eyes wild

with excitement. A newborn in the ways of the bush. Her pen scratched her notepad

furiously as she plotted her thoughts.

Pieter stopped in his tracks, his rifle in firing position, Regina and Olivia complied like

little soldiers. Voices shouted ahead, grass rustled, the sound of armed fire, a deathly

scream, then a thud! The ground shook, the impala scattered in all directions like tiny

pieces of glass shattering on the floor, hooting their emergency call.

The bush paused, a thick, deathly pause. Time stood still.

‘Get it down! What are you doing? I can smell the money already. They said they

wanted it whole,’ echoed through the air. Said a gruff voice with a thick African accent.

Pieter motioned for silence, they took cover in the golden grass, the sun high in the

azure sky, hearts pounding, breaths short. Olivia knew what this was. The voices came

to life again laughing and joking.

‘Good work man, good work, bastard thing, it’s still alive.’

Regina gave a furtive glance over her shoulder, Olivia’s eyes were screwed up in anger,

it was almost palpable, bubbling beneath her skin. The hacking of a machete hitting a

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hard object filled the deathly air. A faint sanguine odor hovered over the pack like a

death cloud. Her anger turned to deep sadness as tears ran down Olivia’s cheeks. She

loved wildlife and the bush. Olivia’s camera had slid down her shoulder and as she

fumbled to regain composure it fell hard to the ground.

Pieter glanced at her, his eyes narrowed. The hacking stopped, the jokes stopped.

Pieter motioned for them, to move back. Bellies on the ground, the girls crawled towards

the thicket behind.

‘Did you hear thet?’

‘Ya, I will go and check it out.’

Olivia motioned for Pieter to join them in the thicket but it was too late, he knew if he

moved the poachers would find them all. His heart was pounding, beads of sweat ran

down is forehead. He lay silent on his back, flat on the ground. His rifle was cocked and

ready. The shot reverberated in the golden clearing. Regina’s hands covering the

ringing in her ears. Olivia feverishly pressing the shutter. The poacher fell to the ground.

‘Farai, bredy bastard!’ shouted the remaining poacher. He gathered his rifle and came

running to his brother’s side. Pieter took a shot but missed the dark skinned man

lunging towards him, a swirl of dust and blood.

‘You bastard, I will show you, I will show you!’ The poacher was high, “chamba” was his

friend, his eyes bloodshot with its consumption. He hit the side of Pieter’s with the butt

of his rifle. Pieter fell backwards, blood tricking down his cheek, his rifle flying threw the

air.

‘So now you bredy bastard, what are you going to do huh? You kill my brother I kill

you’.

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‘Look I am sorry about your brother, lets forget all about his I can pay you and we

don’t have to tell anybody about this.’

‘Ahh, you think its so easy heh, you people always think you can treat us like shit.’

‘No, no, no, look I am really sorry about your brother, my finger slipped, I got scared,

let’s talk.’

‘Nothing to talk about you die or help me to cut that horn off that rhino!’ he ordered, a

mad look in his eyes. Pieter’s face dropped, his whole identity was conservation, he had

formed the Rhino Survival campaign three years ago.

‘Ok, ok, I will help you.’ The poacher motioned Pieter to get up and walk towards the

carcass.

‘You cen hack with machete and I will watch, move.’

Pieter moved towards the carcass. He was stunned, swirling in a surreal dream. He

could hear the flies, their tiny wings buzzing around the flesh. As he looked up to the sky

he saw the vultures swirling in circles as they did when death had arrived. As he picked

up the machete he turned to look at the poacher his eyes filled with fiery anger.

‘What are you waiting for, cut it’ he said, threatening Pieter with the rifle.

‘Ok, can we kill the animal properly first then I can start?’. Pieter’s heart was heavy, he

adored rhino’s, his idealistic dreams seemed to fall all around him as he watched the

animals eyes opaque, moving but already dull, its great body heaving with each breath.

‘No, use the machete.’ Pieter’s shoulders dropped in despair, silently asking the rhino

for forgiveness. As he picked up the machete the flies swirled around him like a raging

tornado, tears warming his cheeks. The poacher was laughing.

‘Come on, bastard.’

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Pieter felt cold, numb, cold. He couldn’t look the animal in the eye as he hacked the

horn. Half an hour passed, and the animal had breathed its last breath.

‘You are coming with me, I remember you, you are that Rhino

guy, yeeeessss, I remember now.’ The poacher’s white teeth visible as he laughed

madly at this revelation. He took out a long rolled “chamba” and lit it. The sweet smell of

marijuana filled the girls nostrils. They were silent deep in the thicket.

‘Look, I helped you cut the horn, let’s leave it now.’

‘You killed Farai, you are going to pay, I think my leader will be verry happy to teach

you people a lesson, especially one that helps put us out of business.’

‘Look you got what you wanted, now let me go!’ exclaimed Pieter, his left temple

pulsing.

‘Ok I kill you now?’

‘Ok, ok, ok, I will come,’ exclaimed Pieter lifting his hands over his head. He knew the

poacher’s kind, he had worked so hard to eliminate them. Now he had to find a way to

get out of this situation. It would be night in a few hours. The poacher gathered the rhino

horn and put in a plastic bag.

‘Let’s go.‘ They sauntered deep into the clearing. As they made their way through the

tall golden grass their figures blended into the mirage over the horizon. Regina and

Olivia were silent. Stunned by the events they had witnessed. Cut and bruised they

were alone, alone in the vastness of the African plains.

‘Olivia, what are we going to do?’ whimpered Regina.

‘Give me your binoculars,’ I motioned to Regina. My bush school days came flooding

back. I felt strange like my brain had changed gears, I was fully alert and knew exactly

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what to do. It had been years ago that I had learnt the ways of the bush, tracking game

and surviving in the African plains. I walked to the mopani tree nearby and climbed its

lowest branches. As I looked through the binoculars I checked to see if the figures were

still visible, they had disappeared. I saw the bloodied Rhino carcass, its head deformed.

The vultures had landed and were pecking at its tough hide. I took in the 360 degree

panoramic view making sure there were no other surprises and resolved it was safe to

continue. As I looked East I saw Pieter’s rifle.

‘Let’s get Pieter’s rifle then we retrace our steps to the canoes and paddle down the

river back to the camp. Pieter tied flagging tape along our route so it should be easy to

find our way back to the shore. It should take us about one hour to get to the canoes

and another two to get to the camp,’ I muttered looking at my wrist watch.

‘Let’s go.’ Rifle in hand, we silently walked along the elephant path the way we had

come, impala were no where to be seen. The bush was still. I could see one of the

canoes had broken away from the bank, drifting downstream. Now there was only one.

The river was calm with little resistance against the oars slicing through it’s surface. A

gentle breeze touched my cheek and for a moment our predicament disappeared, the

fear, the uncertainty drifted away. I heard a loud grunting roar and gushing water. A bull

hippopotamus ambushed us. Its blubbery body came to a sudden halt as it emerged

hitting the small sandbank that separated us. Out of all the African mammals these were

the most savage of river creatures. My heart was pounding, adrenalin rushing

through my veins.

‘Regina, paddle, hard to the bank!‘ I ordered.

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The hippopotamus disappeared beneath the bubbling molecules. We reached the bank,

pulling the canoe onto hard ground. I felt the sweat running down my back. Relief, my

feet were on dry soil. The rifle was wet, it was useless now. I threw it in the shrubs

nearby. As I looked back at the river, the hippopotamus’ head rose above the water’s

surface, ears flicking. It’s beady eyes watching us, its territory regained.

‘Olivia are we going to be ok?’ I looked at Regina, feigning a smile.

‘Yes, lets start walking, if we follow the river we will find the camp. How much water do

we have left?‘ I checked the bottle, we had a half left.

We walked for two hours, the sun had set in the West. It was twilight and crickets had

begun began singing. I knew the creatures of the night would be out soon. The deep

roar of a lion filled our ear drums. I knew it was far away, it was too faint to be anywhere

close. I lit my torch, Regina looked at me, despair in her eyes. I motioned to move on,

what else could we do? At first I thought it was a slight breeze rustling the leaves, but

then I could not be sure. I licked my index finger and put it up in the air. The air was still

and heavy. I frowned, stopped, turned around and there behind us were two reflecting

eyes, white, lucid. My throat was dry. As my eyes adjusted I could see the spotted

hyena looking at us, its head swaying side to side. Where there was one there would be

others.

‘It won’t come close if we throw something at it.’ I threw a stone hitting its flank. It

whimpered and slunk into the shadows. I knew that would not be the end of this

uninvited guest.

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The bush was black, the cold penetrating our bones. The hours passed, my legs weary,

the torch began to dim a little. I was tired and dirty. I thought about Pieter and what

might have happened to him, a shiver down my spine.

‘There is a light, there is a light!’ announced Regina, running ahead. I jerked her back

towards me.

‘Don’t run, you never run when an animal is following you.’ Regina glanced behind us,

the soft patter of the four legged beast had quickened. There was someone with a torch

it was Maxwell the camp manager. We had made it. The hyena retreated, we fell near

the fire in a heap, frantically telling Maxwell what had happened. Now we had to get

Pieter back.

The End

Author Chiara Marrapodi

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